


I'm not you (but that hardly matters)

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: SQ Prompt Please: "Cyanide? I know it burns the tongue and taste acrid."Asked by anon via tumblr





	I'm not you (but that hardly matters)

**Author's Note:**

> I had problems on deciding how to take this one Xd One of the things I wanted to do was to take this into my Of deals, magic and secrets ‘verse but that would have made me create quite the info-dump and I chose against it Xd I absolutely love worldbuilding but I wasn’t sure that would have been enjoyed as the idea I had had very little SQ interaction per se.
> 
> So, that got me thinking into a canonical scene, one that could have had that line or one that in where I could work the line on. And that led me to Jekyll and Hyde. (Seriously, killing both at season’s 6 episode 4 was a waste for me, they built up these two characters only to kill them very quickly Xd)
> 
> So…
> 
> Set in at the end of 6x04. 
> 
> -.-

 

“You don’t like it.”

Regina looked up as Emma entered into the living room; glasses of wine in hand. Schooling her features at the sight of the blonde offering her a drink that Regina wouldn’t have considered to be the woman’s favorite, she tilted her head as Emma shrugged and sat the other side of the couch, maneuvering through the several boxes here and there that filled the -up until now- almost ascetic space.

Taking the offered glass, Regina stared as Emma put hers on top of the nearby coffee table, nerves shinning through her in the form of sparks that clung to her fingers as she brushed her hands against her thighs, movements jittery. Turning to look at her, the blonde offered a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she rose her right hand, pointing at the living room as if that would explain her statement. When Regina remained silent, Emma sighed softly before speaking, her voice echoing slightly in the space.

“The house, I mean.”

Regina pursed her lips as she covered her stomach with her free hand, the movement not going unnoticed by the younger woman as her eyes fell into Regina’s lap. Last time they had been seated at the couch the blonde had been quite the different person and Regina wondered that, if she squinted, she could draw back the white hair over Emma’s blonde locks, the black leather over the flowery pattern of the blouse the woman was wearing, the harsh angles of her cheekbones over the nervousness she now sported. She also wondered if Emma was doing the same with her through stolen glances; comparing the differences she knew that were there on her, on the way she walked and spoke, on the way she felt the Queen’s absence beyond the bloodlust and anger.

Clearing her throat, she shook her head but stopped just as Emma’s lips curved slightly, disbelievingly.

“I guess a house is not something that I’d have thought that suited you.” She bit down the tip of her tongue, hating the way her back muscles tightened, just like they did whenever her mother asked her questions, probing, examining, Regina’s thoughts. She never had had this reaction with Emma before and yet there they were. Rising her chin, she also put the wine aside, the thud against the table’s surface unnaturally loud to her ears. “An apartment, however…”

She didn’t finish the sentence, but Emma nodded, subdued, and Regina thought back on the woman that had created the house in the first place. The anger that had fueled her magic in the same way her own had created the town they were still walking in.

She loved her mansion, she thought, but ever since the split the place had felt as much as a home as threateningly huge; a side effect she guessed. One of many.

Pursing her lips together, she focused once more on Emma. The blonde’s fingers had started drumming against the blonde’s lap and the woman’s eyes were darkened enough to bring out the specks of blue and gold rather than the green. Narrowing her own, Regina waited, curious as what could have made Emma ask her to come by, especially after what had happened hours before.

“I doubt you have called me here for me to tell you I don’t like the house.”

Emma chuckled a little at that, shrugging and Regina thought once more on how smaller she looked against the larger than life blonde she had met years before. Hands on her lap, shoulders hunched, the blonde looked tired, worried, and Regina pressed the still tingling tongue against the back of her teeth, her magic curled on her throat.

“I was thinking… on what you made me promise.”

Regina startled. She had asked Emma to go where she knew others wouldn’t be able to go because she knew, just as Emma had known, that there would not be other capable of such. No other who would see beyond whatever walls they both tried to put between them and the rest. Emma knew this. She knew this. Talking about this, however, wasn’t something they did. They reacted to things, they fought against them. But never talked to each other, not after all was said and done.

Her expression gave her away because Emma closed her eyes and sighed, pressing her back against the one of the couch, the resulting squeak of the material just as loud as the glass had been at the table’s surface.

“I just…” Emma stopped and let her head hung limp for a second, blonde locks obscuring her face. Regina waited, the grasp of the red dress she still hadn’t changed from tightening. She needed Emma into this, she thought, she needed to know that if no other option was found Emma would be there.

“You asked me the same thing.”

Her voice, which at any other time would have been veiled with anger almost sounded as if she was begging and she closed her eyes tightly for a heartbeat. She knew she had changed; the Queen had been more than her anger and hate but it was painful sometimes when she tried to reach to the bottomless source of what had been her strength for so long only to find it lacking. She was able to feel anger, to feel rage, but, just like every other time she had had her heart plucked out, those negative emotions were subdued, softer now, more human, less like the title she had once displayed haughtily and proud.

Emma’s voice made her blink back into the present, the blonde moving slightly closer but remaining well away from her; another change she supposed. But one that had been brewing way before the split. Another one they didn’t truly talk about.

“I won’t back away from that.” Emma seemed earnest and Regina could see the sincerity on that just like she could see and feel Emma’s magic sparkling at the bottom of her eyes, dancing on her irises. “But I’ve been thinking.”

Impatient, Regina reached for the glass, taking a sip as Emma fiddled with her fingers, eyes lowering once more. Her tattoo peeked from the sleeve of her blouse and Regina glanced at it. She knew the story of course, had pieced enough parts of it herself, but she still felt compelled to ask even if she knew she never would. Not in her current state that is.

“I want you to recreate Jekyll’s serum.”

The sentence hit Regina like a punch, her lungs emptying as she gasped, surprised. Yet, when she zeroed on Emma the blonde was looking at her with her jaw locked, tense but ready.

Lowering the glass but never letting it go, it was Regina the one who scooted closer this time, enough that she could see Emma’s neck muscles tense and then release, her eyes darkening even more.

“You know I can’t do it without him.” She began, still trying to put the pieces together. “I’m a potion brewer, but the serum wasn’t a potion, Emma.”

“Then I will ask Gold. He helped Jekyll, knowing him he could have stored the recipe away.”

The way Emma spoke, brusque, emphasizing each word rather than muttering it, made Regina dizzy with the sudden image it created. Not of the Dark version of the woman but one farther in time, one she had almost accepted as gone and buried. The blonde’s green eyes, suddenly lighter, spoke of that and the blouse she wore felt even more like a cage than ever before, the collar tight but askew as Emma run one hand through her hair.

“You asked my help.” She finally said, and Regina was brought back to the docks, the waves almost swallowing Emma’s almost question but not the way she had looked at her; trusting her wholeheartedly even when Regina wasn’t able to. They were in the middle of a conundrum after all; if nothing else came up she needed to be…

“I didn’t ask that so you could ask me to brew the serum! What would you do with it anyway?”

Emma’s lips curled in a short, sharp smile, one that was almost as cruel as her darker counterpart, or maybe just as bitter and Regina realized exactly what the blonde was thinking about.

This time it wasn’t all that difficult to reach for anger, for indignation, as both feelings were mixed with utter worry.

“You want to split yourself.”

The blonde shrugged and, rising, she started to pace, shoulders still hunched, still something the younger self wouldn’t have done but her face just as full of righteousness as Regina had one known her. When she spoke, her voice was filled with agitation and Regina could feel purple beginning to pile up at the edges of her own eyes, tinting everything in mauve and lilac light.

“You were right, back at Robin’s apartment.” Flinching, Emma growled softly before speaking once again. “I was just at the brink, I didn’t fall like you did. But I came close, very close.” Stopping her pacing, Emma turned brusquely, offering her empty hands to Regina before taking them back, her skin alight in dirty white cracks. “You might not need the savior, Regina, but Storybrooke does. They are asking for it. And if things get complicated, really complicated…” She halted once more, her teeth trapping her bottom lip for a moment before she released it once more. “I don’t know if I will be able to do it. If I took the serum…”

Regina felt her head reeling, the way Emma had said her name, the way she had been so sure Regina didn’t need the savior herself, telling enough. Anger still seeping, but still never enough to light her skin like it had once done, she stood as well and walked to the blonde, movements never as quick as they had once been. Muted, once again.

She longed for the anger, the ire. But she found herself tired as she eyed Emma’s face and she almost took a step back as the blonde simply stood in the middle of a far too empty living room, lips not even stained with the wine she was able to taste on hers.

_“How about a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?”._

The memory flashed in front of her eyes, quick and blurry but her voice felt as if she was shouting it at herself from some dark corner of her mind. Wincing at it, she glared as Emma shrugged.

“I’m not going to let you die.” She spoke, and her voice hold such finality that Regina shivered at it. She had already shivered like that back at Camelot, as she pushed and prodded at a quickly dissolving Emma, back at the well. That time she had been the one holding cards against her chest but now it was the blonde who was eyeing her like she felt ready to barrel through whatever emotional bunker Regina was trying to hide away from and that made the brunette pause. Unsure. Meanwhile, Emma spoke once more. “But that’s not enough for the others, is it?”

Regina parted her lips, ready to say that yes, it was, only to realize that no; it wasn’t. Snow had gone back to teaching, David was more focused on the fact Emma was finally taking a step away from their shared apartment and Henry…

Henry was finally being a true teenager, Violet floating the outskirts of her mind just as she thought about it. All of them looked at Emma and saw a Hero. They looked at her and saw the split. None of them were truly free from that and Regina knew how that pressure could mount behind one’s eyes until it felt ready to implode, destroying everything in the process.

“You don’t know what the serum would do to you.” Her voice came out high-pitched, worried, and she hated that, hated the loss of the deep drawl, the one the Queen seemingly had also taken from her. The loss had been greater than what she had anticipated. What would do that to Emma? What else would she loss? The question paralyzed her just as the possibility of an answer and so she kept pressing on. “You can’t know how you will be divided. And that only if it works! It could mean your own death if the serum isn’t made correctly, worse than cyanide.”

Emma shrugged at that, curt, sharp smirk back in place.

“Cyanide? I know it burns the tongue and tastes acrid."

This time Regina felt flames lapping at her fingers, anger redirected, and she squeezed the fireball out before focusing on Emma’s eyes, realizing belatedly that the blonde was eyeing the fire as well, something close to pride glimmering there, lighting the green.

“I’m not joking.” She could feel her shoulders tense and she took yet another step. That’s how they had always done this, she considered, this pull and push. She had missed it far too much.

“Neither I am.” The blonde crossed her arms in front of her chest, fingers pressed tightly against her forearms.

“Have you thought what your worse part could be?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth Regina realized the mistake. That was yet another thing neither of them had the energy to dwell on about. Not when Emma had virtually divided the darkness, storing it into him. The one who should be there but wasn’t, the bite on jealousy and anger flickering in and out of her. She was far too tired however, and far too drunk on this sudden burst of strength she had felt lacking the last couple of weeks. And so, she pressed on, not registering truly she was screaming now. “Sounds like a solid plan; rather than having one major evil in town ask the second one to come back and play! I wonder what my other half would think of that. She would be delighted.”

“I don’t know, you tell me!”

The scream made everything around them still, deafening silence following up Emma’s outburst and Regina swallowed, realizing her breath was hitched, her throat hoarse where she had risen her voice. Sighing, the blonde shrugged, the sudden burst of anger replaced by meekness. One Regina wanted to slap away, destroy it, turn into dust.

“I’m not you, Regina.” The admission came almost unexpectedly, and the brunette blinked owlishly at it, not sure what the sentence truly meant. Fortunately, Emma kept talking. “But once upon a time you asked me to let you die as Regina, not as the Queen. I’m not my title. I’m not. I can’t be. If this… doubt, is destroyed with a split I’m sure you could talk with my other darker half. Storybrooke needs it. And you as well. I know you won’t fail, I know we will find a solution. But not with me like this.”

“And what do you need? What do you want?”

The question escaped her before she was fully aware she had even thought about it but Emma chortled at it, as if she had been waiting for it.

“That doesn’t matter.”

But it mattered, Regina thought, it truly did because Emma could read her, yes, but so could she. And, maybe because of that, she let her hand, still laced with magic, to raise and touch the blonde’s shoulder, rising, inch by inch, until she could almost cup the younger woman’s cheek.

“I won’t do it.”

Emma bristled but Regina stopped her before she could move away.

“You are right. I asked you that. I always divided her and I, I thought that’s how this worked but after the split I’m starting to see that it wasn’t like this. You are your own person, Emma. So was I.”

And, she added in her mind, she needed Emma, beautiful, gorgeous Emma. Not the washed-out version, the one that had cut parts of herself in order to fit in boxes that weren’t hers to even begin with. The blonde didn’t deserve that. She, as she always did, deserved better.

But she was too much of a coward now to even say it out loud and so, she said nothing.


End file.
